


The Mage and the Templar

by ImSecretlyANinjaTimelord



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sibling Rivalry, Trevelyan Siblings, Trevelyan family - Freeform, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 21:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImSecretlyANinjaTimelord/pseuds/ImSecretlyANinjaTimelord
Summary: Nathaniel spent most of his life in the Circle.  Now he's in the midst of a fierce battle for all of Thedas, but he can barely keep it together as his sister, Evelyn and twin brother, Maxwell try to rekindle their relationship.Maxwell doesn't know him anymore, or understand his distrust of Templars, but Nathaniel just wants to prove himself as a competent mage to Solas and Dorian.ORMage Trevelyan, Nathaniel, who had a bad time in the Circle, has to deal with his controlling twin brother and Templar , Maxwell.





	1. Chapter 1

Dragon Age: Inquisition  
The Youngest Trevelyan  
Chapter One

Back and forward a young blonde lass paced the length of the tavern, much to the dismay of her fellow patrons. As she kept her pace, a single set of piercing blue eyes followed her.

“It is a meeting to be held by the Divine, it can’t go too wrong!” The words came as she passed the eyes once more. She paused for a moment, as if to let the words sink in. “Please, sister, take your ale and come sit with me.” He gave a final attempt to soothe his worrying sibling.

She gave a sigh, finally relenting, and took the seat across from her younger brother. As she sat, an air of her relief filled the tavern. The lass took her flagon to her lips and proceeded to unceremoniously down half a pint in one long swig. The lad gave his sister a look, trying to coax words from her by will alone. Evelyn loved her brother’s eyes. He had their mother’s eyes, and they calmed her, made her feel at home.

  
“Maxwell… do you think he will know my face?” Evelyn asked.

It stunned him for a moment. He hadn’t really thought about how estranged his brother and sister actually were, or how worried Evelyn might be about meeting Nathaniel. “It’s been more than a decade and a half since he left for the Circle, since you last seen him, has it not?” Maxwell took the slight bounce in her blonde tresses as a nod. “Do not fret, Evie. You forget he chose to stop seeing me in our sixteenth year; he never had that choice with you.”

_It was not long after the boys fourth birthday that Nathaniel began to show the signs. At first, it was dreams and accidental magic, things he could keep between himself and Maxwell. It was in the middle of a deep summer heat when a young Nathaniel froze the bedchamber he and Maxwell shared that his magic became apparent. From then on, the boys were kept under a watchful eye._

 

_The older the boys got, the more powerful Nathaniel became; and the more excitable Maxwell became over the youngers fantastical feasts. It was this, however, that led to the twins being absent from most public functions: the fear of embarrassment should Nathaniel do anything involving magic in polite and important company. Before long, most of Nathaniel’s time was spent alone; hidden in his room. He didn’t often see his siblings, restricted to Maxwell and his mother’s company. By the time he was nine, his father had finally convinced his mother it was time for Nathaniel to go to the Circle._

 

_It had been tough, for both boys; being torn from the one you thought would be a constant in your life. Nathaniel took it worse: he had been, taken from his home, to a prison: from his family, to become just another confined mage. It had been bearable; on each new moon, Maxwell and their parents would visit, hoping to help Nathaniel’s transition. It was a light in an otherwise grey life. However, years of loneliness and abandonment turned to resentment. Maxwell was everything Nathaniel wanted to be, but never could be; he was himself, born without magic; himself without the disappointment of his parents. It was on visit for their sixteenth birthday that Nathaniel realised he could no longer bear the visits, and in a fit of anger bid his brother and his brother and parents a final goodbye. In the years after, Evelyn replaced Nathaniel in Maxwell’s life and finally his heart. Meanwhile Nathaniel lost himself in the Circle._

 

__A loud, deafening boom interrupted Maxwell and Evelyn’s conversation that day. It drew the tavern dwellers from the impermeable dusk of the pub to the light of day. To bear witness to the destruction of the horizon; to the gaping tear in the sky and the destruction of the mountain and the Temple of Sacred Ashes. To see the birth of the Breach.  
__

 

__Maxwell gave one last thrust to try and open the door of the cell he found himself in. It did not budge. He gave up, picked up a book and began to flick through the pages: not actually reading the book, merely pretending in the hopes it would pass some time. The young Lord had found himself in his current predicament when he tried to force his way into Haven’s Chantry, despite protests from the sisters and guards. In the early hours of the morning, Maxwell had seen soldiers drag his brother’s unconscious body to the cells below, and so, he was determined to free Nathaniel, or get some answers. Evelyn had tried to convince her brother to wait, that she might contact their father to put pressure on the Lady Seeker in charge to release Nathaniel, but Maxwell was too hot-headed and impatient. Thusly, he promptly found himself threatening the Chantry Guard and finding his way to the cells in a rather unexpected fashion._ _

 

 

 

It was as though all there was was pain. An intense, unnatural throbbing from his left hand. He wanted to wake, to find a distraction from the terrible sensation radiating from his palm, but he could not. Something would not let him rouse from his dreams.

His eyes cracked open, enough to see he was in some prison, if only just. The foreign tingling in his hand was still there. Around him, four heavily outfitted guards, their swords at the ready, were just waiting for him to do something. He looked around; trying to make out any detail he could that hinted at where he was. Then the door was thrown open and two women entered: one bore a menacing look and was outwardly threatening; the other hooded and mysterious.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now?” The dark haired one spoke. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead, except for you.”

Nathaniel could not bring himself to speak. Dead. All those lives. He couldn’t find the words, but the woman in front of him would not accept his silence

“Explain this!” She demanded, pulling at his arm. It burst with excess magic once more.

“I… can’t….” Nathaniel was frozen.

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t’?” She pressed again.

“I don’t know what that is, or how it got there!” Nathaniel tried to sound sure and assertive, but it came out as terrified as he truly felt.

“You’re lying!” The Nevarran moved to strike the manacled mage, but the hooded woman who had kept to the shadows stopped her before the hit landed.

“We need him, Cassandra.” Her Orlesian accent was pleasant.

Without anyone in his face, Nathaniel was given a moment to think. What had happened? Was he responsible? He could feel his chest tighten. “I can’t… believe it… All those people…”

“Do you remember what happened? How this all began?” The redhead softly probed for answers.

“I remember running…” He tried to recall, but couldn’t. Abominations and Templars chasing him. Climbing. Struggling. Nothing... “Things were chasing me. And then… a woman?”

“A woman?” Her interest was piqued.

“She reached out to me, but then…” Nathaniel’s mark flared, pain shot from his hand all the way to his head. He simply could not recall.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana.” Cassandra stepped in once more. “I will take him to the rift.”

Leliana nodded and took her leave.

“What did happen?” The mage tried.

Cassandra pulled him to his feet, roughly dragging Nathaniel from the cell. “It will be easier to show you.”

Evelyn was currently annoyed with her little brother. It had not taken much effort, but she did have to forfeit her battle with the piss-water that the Fereldans let pass for ale, to come to his aid. Maxwell had found himself incarcerated after foolishly attempting to force his was into the Chantry. She was on her way to have him released: two days in a cell was punishment enough for not listening to her. The guard opened the door; inside Maxwell had fallen asleep with a book in his lap. A slight nudge of the chair from Evelyn sent the book and her brother to the floor.  
“Good afternoon, little brother.” She greeted him with an undeserved grin.

“Finally! You took your time!” Maxwell shot to his feet and dusted off his leathers; giving his sister a look of disdain that only one sibling could lovingly give another.

“Whilst you slept, brother dearest, the Lady Seeker escorted our Nathaniel up the mountain. I spoke with the sisters. They tell me to offer our assistance to Commander Cullen. That shall get us up the mountain. Now, let us get a move on!”

Maxwell could not move quick enough, running to their tent to gather his arms. He would not be without his trusted Templar sword and shield; gifted from his older brother Tobias on his eighteenth birthday for entering the final stage of his Templar training.

It was only once they had reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes that what had happened became clear. Bodies were scattered everywhere. Demons were falling from the sky. Mage healers and surgeons were scrambling around trying to repair what damage they could. The Trevelyans neared what would have once been the outer walls of the Temple; all that was left was a free-standing door. On one side, rows of dead, corpse wrapped up in cloth; on the other, soldiers preparing to re-join the fight. In the courtyard of the Temple a battle had just finished. The prisoner had made his way through and sealed a rift, and the Commander was carrying an injured soldier to aid. Maxwell hurried to the Commander to help carry the soldier.

“Thank you, Ser.” Cullen nodded at the young man. Together they laid the soldier on one of the makeshift beds, leaving him to the healers. “Might I be of any assistance?” The Commander asked the pair of Free Marchers.

“We were hoping to be of assistance to you, Commander.” Maxwell offered.

“We are of able body; it is our Duty to the Maker to help as we can.” Cullen tried to smile, but he had seen too many deaths that day to feign one, even for appearances.

“That would be grand, indeed. We, and whoever else is willing, shall offer our aid to Seeker Pentaghast in her effort on the Breach.”

Nathaniel gawked at the Breach. It was so vast, and so high up. How was he meant to deal with that? Behind him, Leliana and Cassandra discussed strategy and soldiers. Beside him, Varric and Solas gazed upon the Breach with as much fear and wonder as himself.

“This is your chance to end this.” Cassandra put her hand gently on the Mages shoulder, as if trying to reassure him. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll try, but I don’t know if I can reach that, much less close it.” Nathaniel said as he massaged his arm, trying to soothe the ache.

“No. This rift was the first, and it is the key.” Solas interjected. “Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.” Nathaniel looked at Solas, suddenly aware of the hope upon him and the magnitude of the task before him.

Together the company tried to find a safe way down to what would have been the Inner Sanctum of the Temple. The further they ventured, voices could be heard seeping from the fade.

“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring fourth the sacrifice.”

“Keep the sacrifice still.”

“Someone help me.”

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice.” Cassandra could not contain herself.

“Someone help me.”

“What’s going on here?”

“That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you. But…” Not sure of what to make of the situation, Cassandra could not finish her thought.

They eventually made their way down. Nathaniel’s presence caused the rift to spark and crackle, and ghostly images of the Divine appeared before them all. Eyes watched as the rift tried to show what had happened. Then in a white flash, it all disappeared.

“You were there! Who attacked?! And the Divine, is she…” Cassandra bombarded Nathaniel; unsure is she was accusing him, unsure of what she was seeing. “Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

“I-I don’t remember.” Trevelyan stepped back from the Seeker, her very aura intimidating him. He had to focus on his breathing, on controlling his magic. She may have seemed like a good woman on his first impression, but so had too many others. He didn’t know how much he could trust someone who believed in the Circle, and he could feel a rising panic grip his body.

“Echoes of what happened here. The fade bleeds into this place.” Solas words brought Nathaniel back from the darkness seizing his heart. “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed…. albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.

“That means demons. Stand ready!” Cassandra called to the soldiers. She turned to the small ensemble in the Inner Sanctum. “Cullen will be here with reinforcements momentarily, now, ready?”

A unanimous roar told Nathaniel it was now up to him to take action. Stifling the rising panic, he raised his hand to the rift and willed it open, willed something to happen. The rift erupted, knocking Nathaniel to the ground and like a bolt of electricity, something shot from the rift, and a pride demon appeared.

The demon waved its lumbering fists at the swarms of soldiers at his feet, knocking them away with ease. Archer and a small number of mages fired on the beast from above. The demon growled, but continued as though nothing was happening. Nathaniel and Solas began casting to break the barriers around Pride, and use ice magic to freeze its appendages in an attempt to slow it.

“We must strip its defenses!”

“Wear it down!”

“Disrupt the rift.”

Calls and order flew across the battlefield. Nathaniel raised his hand to the rift once more, Solas believing it might weaken the beast. It fell to its knees, proving the Elven Apostate to be correct. The warriors attacked, dealing a lot of damage as the rift summoned more demons. Two shades appeared, instantly targeting Nathaniel. When he was far enough from one to target, the other had snuck up behind him. With the shades closing in and the Pride demon unleashing arcane magic all around; frustration, fear and anger bubbled over within and the young mage let loose his magic in a fierce and powerful blizzard, surrounding and engulfing the Temple.

__Maxwell reached the Inner Sanctum to find a blizzard. Cullen led the group of soldiers down to join the fight, where Cassandra rallied everyone against the pride demon. Leliana and Varric led the archers and Solas took charge of the magical offence. Maxwell called out to his brother, who was obscured by the storm, but all Nathaniel gave was a quick glance before he turned to the rift to try and close it._ _


	2. Return and Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up in Haven and seeing the formation of the Inquisition, Nathaniel decides to meet with his brother and sister.

_Griffons flew overhead.  Demons swarmed.  Off in the distance, just out of reach, out of sight, vast and immeasurable.  It felt malicious.  The grey...  It came from nowhere.  It brought eyes, too many eyes that could see too deep.  Once the grey would have been a warning before a storm, but this was the storm.  Burning…  Tearing...  Dying...  Dark…_

Nathaniel woke in a stark panic; he didn’t know where he was or how he had gotten there.  He was clammy and ached all over.  His hand still bore the mark of strange magic that he could feel fighting against his own magic.  The only thing that brought him out of his panic was the young elven woman dropping the box she held at the sight of him stirring.

                “Oh, I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” She was obviously uneasy, frightened maybe, in Nathaniel’s presence.

                “Why are you frightened?” Nathaniel was hopeful she might be honest with him.  “What happened? What have I done?”

                She looked like he had just stabbed her.  “That’s wrong, isn’t it?  I said the wrong thing.”

                “I don’t think so-” The girl fell to her knees, bowing to Nathaniel.  “What are you doing?” Nathaniel whispered, so quietly the girl couldn’t hear him.

                “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing.  I am but a humble servant.” She sat up, now kneeling at the uncomfortable mages feet.

                “Please don’t do that.”  He tried to be louder this time.  “Please stand up.”  He offered a hand to her, helping her to her feet.

                “You’re back in Haven, my Lord.  They say you saved us.”  She was slowly backing away as she spoke.  “The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.  It’s all anyone has talked about for three days!

                Three days?  He had been out for three days?  “So you’re saying… they’re happy with me?”

                “I’m only saying what I heard. I don’t mean anything by it!”  She started bowing at him again.  The mage took a step closer to the elf, but she kept her distance.  “I’m sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened.  She said ‘at once’.”

                “And where is she?”

                “In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor.  ‘At once’ she said!”  And she ran out of the cabin.

                Nathaniel sat on his bed for a moment.  How had he gotten himself into this situation...?  Seekers? Templars? Maxwell?  As if being an apostate wasn’t bad enough.  The whole point of leaving the Circle had been a way to get away from all of this.  With a hefty sigh, he buried his face in his hands.  He could feel his magic cool the room around him.  Nathaniel liked the cold, but it meant he was losing control of his magic as well as his emotions.  Under his fingers he could feel a scar.  It ran from above his ear, down and under his cheekbone.  It was new in comparison to his many others, but feeling it reminded him of the things he wanted to leave behind all the same.

                Nathaniel had a few new features that reminded him how different he was from his brother.  That reminded him they were not identical anymore, their connection was scarred, if alive at all.  On the right upper lip; on his right eyebrow; along the left of his jaw and the one that ran along his cheek.   His skin was now chalky and pale; eyes and cheeks verging on gaunt; and he was so slender, especially compared to Maxwell.  His brother had smooth olive skin and chestnut hair to match, just as he had once had.  Now Nathaniel was convinced he was going grey.  Maxwell’s shoulders were broad, his body toned and muscular, he had a warriors build indeed.  Nathaniel looked like a vagrant, not the son of a noble house of the Free Marches.

                The young mage had resolved to visit the Lady Cassandra, but found himself paused at the door of his cabin, hand firmly grasping the knob.  She had promised a fair trial; hopefully she would honour her word.  Bravely, and with great purpose, he opened the door.  Outside, lining the street stood twenty Templar soldiers, followed by droves of civilians.  He almost slammed the door and retreated.  Then he noticed their hands, balled proudly over their hearts, saluting him.  He gingerly made his way through the village.  The townsfolk kept their gaze strongly focused on the mage.

                “That’s him.  That’s the Herald of Andraste.  They said when he came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over him.” 

                “Maker be with you.”

                “Blessings upon you, Herald of Andraste.”

                “That’s him.  He stopped the Breach from getting any bigger.”

                “I heard he was supposed to close it entirely.  Still it’s more than anyone else has done.  Demons would have had us otherwise.”

                Nathaniel couldn’t get to the Chantry quick enough.  He had to get away from the prying eyes. ‘Herald of Andraste’, that’s what the people had called him.  What did that even mean?  He could not even bear to think of it.  He leaned back on the great wooden door as it closed behind him.

                “Nathaniel!  I’d hoped to catch you here.”  Maxwell appeared as if from nowhere, thrilled to see his little brother; who was not so sure he felt the same, or how he felt at all.

                “Max… What a-are you doing h-here?”  His brother stood proud and strong beside him although it felt as though he was towering over him.  Once they had been the same height, now Maxwell must have had four inches on his brother.  “It’s been nine years, are you not glad to see me?”

                “O-o-of course I am.”  He backed away from the warrior once more.  “I was simply not expecting you.  If anyone, I’d have expected Tobias to be here.”

                Maxwell practically lunged at his little twin, putting his arm around Nathaniel’s shoulder. “No! After the Circles fell, Tobias made sure to come home, worried as he was of the stories of so many abominations at Ostwick, and Simon asked him to stay put.”

Abominations?  At the Ostwick Circle?  That was very wrong.  Nathaniel knew what happened at Ostwick when the mages finally joined the rebellion.  It wasn’t abomination, but it was not mage abominations.

               

                _The situation at the Ostwick Circle was becoming more and more tense.  It was almost a fifty-fifty split over the rebellion.  Senior Enchanter Lydia had remained neutral.  She had encouraged both Templars and Mages to remain and to do so in harmony.  It seemed to be working, despite the strained atmosphere.  For a time after the decision had come through, Senior Enchanter Lydia still kept the peace; until she was killed in her sleep by a student who supported the rebellion.  Then the Templars went on a rampage.  If anyone survived, it was barely.  Nathaniel barely escaped, his friend Lirienne had managed to drag him from the Tower, although, he never knew what became of her afterward.  But he knew that Diyari never left the tower._

Nathaniel stood out from Maxwell’s embrace and stormed to the Chantry’s backroom.

                “Nate! Nathan! Where are you going?  I was talking to you?” Maxwell made to follow after his brother.

                “I have been requested by Lady Seeker Cassandra.  We shall speak later, Max.” He tried to brush off his brother, and barged in, shutting the door on Maxwell.  Inside, arguing amongst themselves were Leliana, Cassandra and the Chancellor Roderick.

                “Chain him!” Roderick was quick to react, commanding the soldiers the instant he noticed the mage.  “I want him prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

                “Disregard that, and leave us.”  The Seeker sent the stationed Templars from the room.  Nathaniel had expected the Chancellors reaction, but not the Seekers; her defence of him, despite opinions she had clearly voiced.

                “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”  Nathaniel noted the Chancellor trying to be threatening.  He also noted it was a failing attempt.  He was nothing compared to the Left and Right Hands of the Divine.

                “The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat.  I will not ignore it!” Cassandra reminded the Chancellor.

                “I-I did everything I could to close the Breach.”  He could feel his voice going.  “It almost killed me.”

                “Yet you live.  A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned.”  Roderick accused.

                “Have a care Chancellor.  The Breach is not the only threat we face.  The Seeker turned the accusation from the mage.

                “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect.  Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live.” Leliana gracefully swooped into the conversation.

                “I am a suspect.”

                “You… and many others.” Leliana corrected the clergyman.

                “But not the prisoner.” Nathaniel was as shocked as Roderick.

                “I heard the voices in the Temple.  The Divine called to him for help.” Cassandra was very matter-of-fact.

                Nathaniel drifted from the conversation for a moment, confusion ruling his thoughts.  “You can’t honestly believe that I am any kind of ‘Chosen One’?”

                “We are all subject to the will of the Maker, whether we wish it or not.” The Seeker pushed past the Chancellor to stand beside Nathaniel, almost reassuringly.  “No matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

                “The Breach remains and your Mark is our only hope of closing it.”  Leliana reminded him.

                The rebirth of the Inquisition unfolded before his eyes.  The Chancellor left, clearly unhappy.   The Divines Hands carried out her plan, even though the grieved for her still.  It had been a most unusual day.

                “If you’re truly trying to restore order…” Maybe he could help.

                “That is the plan.”  Leliana nodded.

                “Help us fix this, before it’s too late.”  Cassandra offered her hand and Nathaniel took it, proud to try.

 

                Nathaniel left Cassandra and Leliana to their machinations.  He was set on seeking out his brother; it was a day of trying to save things, their friendship included.  After an unintentionally long, although interesting, conversation with Solas, Nathaniel has overheard that his brother and sister were enjoying that atmosphere of the local tavern.  He was deliberately taking a long time to get there.  A small pep talk and he was motivated himself enough to enter the tavern.

                “Nathaniel!”  Maxwell and Evelyn proclaimed in unison at the sight of him.  Around them, the pub fell silent in the presence of the Herald of Andraste himself.

                “Yes. Hello.”  Nathaniel was rusty with familiar conversation.  “Perhaps we might retreat to somewhere more private.  The populous do not know what to make of me quite yet.”  He feigned a laugh.

 

                The young mage took a seat on the bed, leaving the stools to his siblings.  They sat awkwardly in silence, Nathaniel unwilling to make eye contact first.

                “Brother, I was glad to hear you survived the Circle.”  Evelyn was the first to speak. “The Templars there told us how ugly it got when the mages rebelled.  At least you saw sense.”

                “I should have left sooner, but I could not bear to leave my friends.”  The mage confessed.

                “You wanted to leave?! Why?”  His sibling’s disbelief seemed genuine.

                “It was not a good place, at least with the Templars still there”

                Maxwell balled his fists in anger.  “I knew the Templars stationed at Ostwick.  They are good men.  I won’t hear a word against my brothers.”

                “I… Sorry.”  Bowing his head, Nathaniel hated how quickly he reverted to a prisoner in the presence of intimidation.  “Brothers? Maxwell, you are a Templar?” His heart sank.

                “Not yet. Mother asked I hold back on my vows until later.”  He smiled, so proud of himself.  “She already has one son a Templar, and could bear to miss another.  With tensions and the brink of a war, it was an easy request to agree to.”

                “You’re not the only one?  Tobias completed his training then?”

                “Yes, he took his vows on his eighteenth. You have such a family to be proud of!”  Maxwell beamed, as Nathaniel choked.

                “Enough talk of Templars.” Evelyn butted in.  “Tell us of yourself.  You were merely a boy when last we saw you.”  The Herald was thankful for his sister for the first time in his life.

                “Evie is right.  Let this be a joyous reunion!” Maxwell roared and summoned a servant to bring ale.

                “There is not much to tell, Circle life for a mage is rather boring.”  Nathaniel tried to avoid the subject of himself.

                “Nonsense.” Maxwell was not swayed by his twins’ words. “Tell us of your friends, of your everyday.”

                “I passed my harrowing at seventeen.” He began. “Everyday life would be as you imagine; lessons, dining and chores with small personal allowances all worked meticulously into a schedule.  My best friends were Lirienne and Diyari.  I had a good friend among the Templars also, Ser Tomas.”

                “I know Tomas.”  Maxwell interrupted.  “If only a little, he is an honest man, devout.”

                “That is he.  Do you know if he lives?”  Nathaniel was hopeful his friend had escaped the horrors of Ostwick.

                “The last I’d heard of him, he had gone to Therinfall Redoubt.” Maxwell got up to receive the drinks from the serving girl.

                “I hope we meet again.”  The mage sighed before continuing his tale.  “Lirienne was a great friend.  She arrived at the Circle a few weeks before I did; her mother wanted her to study under our Senior Enchanter.  She really helped me to settle. She helped me feel at ease and to talk to people.  Liri once told me how she never thought that I had the look of a shy child.”  Nathaniel laughed as a thought of her.  “She was a sweet girl, a sweeter woman, kind.  I wish we could have remained together, once the Circle fell.”

                “You speak as though she did not survive.” Evelyn pointed out. “I… I do not know what became of her...” It was painful to recall “…Diyari… he died when Ostwick went to hell.  I could not leave him, but I would not let Lirienne put herself in danger to stay at my side.”  He took a deep breath to fight back tears.

                “Was she your lover?”  Evelyn asked, taking her brothers hand.

                “Liri?”  Nathaniel laughed.  “No!  She was like a sister to me.” Evelyn recoiled, even though she knew she had no right to.

                “What of this Diyari?”  Maxwell enquired.  “Who was he?”

                “He was… my best friend.  He arrived at the circle when I was fourteen; he was a little older than I.”  Nathaniel reminisced.  “He came from the Kirkwall Circle; he wished to remain close to his mother when she moved.  He was killed in front of me… he died in my arms…” He allowed himself to shed a few tears for Diyari.  “I am sorry. H-He was dear to me.”

                “Nathaniel…” Evelyn moved to sit beside her baby brother, to hold him.  She could not imagine how it felt to lose someone she cared for.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Nate.”

                Her embrace, her sympathy was not expected.  "Thank you sister, it’s been year, but it is still hard to think of him.”  He smiled and she returned to her seat.  “Perhaps you might tell me of House Trevelyan?”  Nathaniel suggested.

                “Of course.”  She smiled.  “Simon is acting head of the family.  Father and Mother are getting on in years, so he learns.  Elspeth married a Lord from Highever, they have three children.  They both enjoy the great game a little too much.”

                “Tobias is a great, proud Templar!” Maxwell overtook his sister’s story. “And Lawrence is a magnificent scholar with the Chantry.  A smart man indeed.”

                “I was considering life as a Chantry Sister.”  Evelyn continued.  “But I was not sure if it suited me.  I hold onto my youthful, wildly romantic fantasies of life as Bard.  One day, I want to be one of the greats.”

                “A bard?”  Nathaniel parroted in disbelief.  “That is a vast difference!”

                “I know, but one can dream.”  She laughed.

                “I was set to make my vows on my twenty first… but then Kirkwall happened….”  Maxwell told.  “I decided to search for you when the rebellion came to Ostwick.”

                “I feel my life has been so slow compared to yours.”  Nathaniel admitted.  He rubbed his marked arm, yawning as he did.

                “You have had a long day little brother.  Maxwell stood, signalling to Evelyn to do so.  “Let us leave you in peace for a while; I’m sure the Lady Seeker will be looking for you before long.”

                They bade their farewells and let the young Herald indulge in a much needed nap.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition heads to Redcliffe to acquire and meets many Tevinter natives. 
> 
> Mostly brief and quick story progression over the time span of around a month if you need to know. This is where the plot really begins to change but you might not see the effects right away.

****

                Once his siblings had left, the elven servant from earlier had appeared at Nathaniel’s door.  She had been given instruction to draw him a bath and present him with some new clothing.  Someone obviously did not care for his ratty mercenary garb.

                Upon waking the next morning, the Herald found himself almost instantly summoned to the Chantry.  The mage was more cautious about exiting the cabin now.  They may not have been out for blood, but opening his door to crowds of Templars and villagers was not something he ever wanted to experience again.  Thankfully Haven seemed to be calmer today.

                As he made his way to the Chantry, Nathaniel noted the exceptional fit of his leathers; there was something bizarre about it that he didn’t want to consider right now.  In the main hall, Seeker Pentaghast waited to greet him.

                Since he had woken, the Mark had been particularly bothersome.  It ached; fighting with his own magic for connection to the Fade, at least that was how he described the feeling.

                “Does it trouble you?”  Cassandra caught his examining the Mark.

                “If it wasn’t enough to close the Breach, what use is it?”  He was almost looking for an answer, despite not expecting the Seeker to have one.

                “You did everything we asked of you.”  Anything else would have been a better response.

                “And it still didn’t work.”

                “What’s important is that your Mark is now stable, as is the Breach.  You’ve given us time, and Solas believes that a second attempt might succeed – provided the mark has more power.  The same level of power used to open the Breach of the first place.  That is not easy to come by.”

                “What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand!”  Nathaniel gave a smile, he’d forgotten how to recently.

                “Hold on to that sense of humour.”  The Nevarran returned the grin, and then showed him into the Chantry’s rear room.  Inside; the Inquisitions main players.  “You’ve met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition Forces.”

                “It was only for a moment on the field.”  The Commander lightly bowed his head to the Herald.  “I’m pleased you survived.”

                “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.” Cassandra continued.

                “I’ve heard much.” The Antivan curtsied.  “A pleasure to meet you at last.”

                “And of course you know Sister Leliana.”

                “My position here involves a degree of-“

                “She is our Spymaster.”

                “Yes, tactfully put, Cassandra.”

                Nathaniel wanted to laugh, but the thought that either woman could kill him helped him to refrain.  “Pleased to meet you all.”

 

                During the meeting, Leliana informed the Herald of a Chantry Cleric in the Hinterlands who had requested Nathaniel visited her.  The Revered Mother Giselle was currently spending her time tending to the refugees and the injured of the Mage-Templar War.  By her advice. Nathaniel visited the Orlesian Capital: Val Royeaux.  The trip enabled him to sow the seeds of dissent among the fearful clerics, just enough to provide the budding Inquisition with hope and a chance.

                It yielded more immediate results too.  The Herald received an invitation to a Masquerade Ball at the Ghislain Estate.  There Madame Vivienne De Fer awaited his company.  The Lady Vivienne, First Enchanter to the Imperial Court, offered her knowledge and expertise in service to the Inquisition.  Nathaniel also received a more odd and mysterious invitation; to a dark alley deep in the Capital.  He met a strange elf there.  Sera, a Red Jenny, was bizarre and improbably charming girl, who also wished to join the Inquisition.

                Upon their return, Leliana passed the Herald information of a Grey Warden sighted in the Hinterlands.  She was concerned as mounting evidence hinted that the disappearance of the Order had to do with the Divine’s death, much to her dismay, and the Nightingale sought closure.

                Ser Blackwall had not been hard to find, having spent a great deal of time in the area searching for supplies for the refugees, Nathaniel had a good idea where to look.  When they found him, the Warden had been teaching farmers and farmhands how to defend themselves.  He did not have any knowledge of the Order for Leliana, but he had vowed his sword to the Inquisition ion the Grey Wardens stead.

                Before long, another had joined the cause.  The Iron Bull and his mercenary company.  Bull was a Qunari, and a Ben Hassrath, a spy under the Qun.  It seemed the fear of a great magical unknown was enough even to provoke Qunari action.

                Nathaniel returned from the Storm Coast a week and a half after Bull and his chargers arrived in Haven.  They seemed to be settling in well, as did the other arrivals.  Maxwell was rather enamoured with the famous company and its chief; spending many nights by their campfire enjoying their tales.  The young mage was more relaxed listening to Solas talk of his Fade journeys, or taking a quiet walk in the snow.  He often found refuge in a cabin just beyond the village limits.  It had once belonged to a local apothecary who perished at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

                The time had come for Nathaniel to make a real decision for the Inquisition: whether to approach the Mages or Templars for help.  For Nathaniel, the choice was not that difficult, he could never trust the Templars.  Finding a way to keep from the Templars without discussing why was where he foresaw issues.  He had been able to get an invitation to Redcliffe, so this made the Mages the more logical choice.

                Cassandra, Blackwall and Varric accompanied Nathaniel to Redcliffe.  He made sure the keep details of the mission from his brother, unsure of what he might think, or do.  Upon reaching the town one of Leliana’s spies awaited them bearing strange news: No one in Redcliffe was expecting them.  Was Grand Enchanter Fiona keeping her invitation quiet?  They weren’t sure what to make of it yet.

                Inside the local tavern, Fiona, leader of the mage rebellion, sat in weak candlelight.  She rose to greet the Inquisition as they entered.

                “Welcome, agents of the Inquisition, what has brought you to Redcliffe?” She asked, leaving the four of the agents only able to pass questioning looks between them.

                “We’re here because of your invitation back in Val Royeaux.” Nathaniel managed the sentence without a single stutter.

                “You must be mistaken.”  Fiona smiled through her own confusion.  “I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.”

                “If it wasn’t you who invited me, who was it?” Was she toying with him?

                “”I… I don’t know.  Now you say it, I feel strange.” She shook her head. “Whoever or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed.  The Free Mages have already… pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium.”

                “An alliance with Tevinter?” Cassandra interrupted. “Do you now fear all of Thedas turning against you?”

                “As one indentured to a Magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.” Fiona admitted.

                “Welcome my friends.” The foreign voice came from behind them. “I apologise for not greeting you earlier.”

                “Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius.” Fiona dutifully presented the Tevinter maleficar.

                “The southern mages are under my command.” Alexius looked Nathaniel dead in the eye.  “And you are the saviour, yes?  The one from the Fade? Interesting.”

                Nathaniel was not enjoying the scrutiny. “I-if you’re leading the mages now, let’s talk.” The young mage needed a moment, the façade of a string individual was difficult to maintain. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”

                “It is always a pleasure to meet a reasonable man.”  The Magister gave a sinister smirk, and Nathaniel, unable to meet his gaze, followed him meekly to the table. “Felix, would you send for a scribe, please?”  Alexius addressed the sickly young man who had come with him. “Pardon my manners. My son Felix, friends.”  The gentleman bowed before leaving to fulfil his father’s request.  “I am not surprised you’re here.”  He gave the same smile once again.  “Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt.  There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavour, ambitious indeed.”

                “Does that mean you’ll lend your mages to our cause?”  Nathaniel tried to be as assertive and stand-offish as he could pretend to be.

                “There will have to be-” Felix, the magister’s son returned, but he looked worse than before, there was a frail dizziness to his steps.  Alexius and the Herald stood simultaneously to support Felix, should he need it.  “Felix!”  He fell on Nathaniel.

                “My Lord, I’m so sorry.” The younger Tevinter apologised loudly, covering up the act of slipping something into Nathaniel’s pocket. “Please forgive me.”

                “Are you alright?”  Alexius was quick to fuss.

                “I’m fine father.  The son protested.

                “Come. I’ll get your powders.”  He pulled his ailing child away.  “Please excuse me, friends.  We will have to continue this another time.”

                Nathaniel just stood there, unsure of what had happened. When the magister and his entourage were gone from the tavern, he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

                _“Come to the Chantry.  You are in danger.”_

                The mage passed ominous note to his companions.  “What do we make of this?”  He wasn’t sure if it was a trap or a potential lead.

                “It’s a little odd, whatever is going on.” Cassandra offered.

                “We can handle an ambush: we’re expecting one, and we’re tough enough.” Blackwall proclaimed, vocally beating his chest. “I say, we go.”

                With the only other choice being Templars, the Herald was oddly confident about accepting Felix’s mystery summons.

 

                Inside Redcliffe’s Chantry, there was neither an ambush nor Felix.  Instead, a mage, faring very well against the darkspawn pouring from an open rift.

                “Good! You’re finally here! Now help me close this would you?”  His voice was warm and captivating enough that the young mage could have failed to notice the scene of utter carnage before him.  He could have, if the Mark did not attract demons.

                With the strangers help, the darkspawn were easily dispersed.  The behaviour of the rift had been noticeably odd.  Nathaniel could not quite putt his finger on why, but something definitely felt… off…

                “Fascinating.” The tanned man gawked as Nathaniel closed the rift. “How does that work, exactly?

                A sense of frustration washed over the Herald, replacing the buzz from the victory of battle. How _did_ it work?  He wasn’t sure.  He didn’t have inkling.  It worked, that was all he needed to know He could worry about ‘how’ when he had learned to cope with it, and the dull ache it presented almost constantly.

                The other man gave a condescending chuckle.  “You don’t even know, do you?”  The younger pulled his hand back to his chest, his face reddening in anger and shame.  “You just wiggle your fingers and ‘boom!’, rift closes.”

                “Who are you?”  Nathaniel asked, warily stepping back from the confident stranger.

                “Ah! Getting ahead of myself again, I see!”  He gave an elegant bow. “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathos.  How do you do?”

                  “Another Tevinter.” The Nevarran was quick to point out.  “Be careful with this one.”

                “Suspicious friends you have here.” Dorian flashed a cheeky grin.  “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable – as I’m sure you can imagine.”

                Dorian explained that somehow Alexius had ‘perfected’ time manipulation magic.  Felix eventually joined and explained the cult of supremacists his father now belonged to, and how they were determined to get to Nathaniel.

 

                It was decided that Dorian would meet the party come nightfall at their camp by Lake Calenhad and return with them to Haven.  First he needed to get out of Redcliffe Village without Alexius or his Venatori noticing him.  It was close to midnight when he finally appeared, Cassandra retreated to her tent.  Varric had gone to his tent when they arrived at the camp.  Blackwall was enjoying the warmth of the campfire.  Nathaniel was walking in the shallows collecting blood lotus and casting spells to create intricate patterns with ice on the water’s surface when a voice from the blue startled him.

                “Having fun, are we?” Trevelyan jumped at the sudden break of silence, accidentally letting burst a small pulse of magic, covering them both in light snow.  He turned to a slightly unimpressed Dorian standing behind him.

                “S-S-Ser Pavus!”  He towered over Nathaniel. “I-I’m s-s-sorry.” He tentatively reached out to dust off the snow.

                “It’s quite alright.” Dorian gently lowered the Heralds hands before wiping the snow himself.  “I didn’t mean to frighten you…?”

                It took a moment to realise Dorian was asking for his name. “Oh! I am Nathaniel.”

                “Nathaniel. Lovely.” The Tevinter flashed his charming smile.  “You know, for a ‘Herald of Andraste’, you’re a rather timid one.”

                “I am?”  Quiet enough for Dorian to hear and have his point proven. 

The older man laughed.  He had never met someone as shy. “Might I see the Mark?”  A simple enough request.  Nathaniel loosened the ties on his leather gauntlet and unwrapped the cotton underneath.  He gave off a bright green glow, and held out his hand.  It gently crackled at Dorians light touch and he watched the scar dance for a moment; mystified by the unknown and enthralled by its potential.  “Does it hurt?”  He asked suddenly.

“It… fights.”  Trevelyan began, looking at the mark.  “Against me. Against my magic.”  He hoped the Tevinter, as a mage, might understand.  “I think I’m getting used to it.”  Dorian eyes told the younger that he understood, at least in theory.  It was a pain he could only imagine.

“So ‘Herald’, before, were you an apostate?  A Circle mage?”  He queried.

“I was a C-Circle M-Mage.”  He felt a sense of shame admitting it to a ‘free mage’.

“Are southern Circles as bad as the horror stories we tell to children back home?”

“I, er…” Nathaniel fumbled. “I don’t think I am the b-best to ask.  My experiences were not… common.”  He hoped.  He couldn’t bear sharing his experiences.

“They couldn’t have been that bad, could they?”  Dorian laughed, hoping Nathaniel would too, to lighten the tension in the air.  He hoped the younger man was simply being dramatic, but he watched as Nathaniel sank into himself.

“Dorian… Look at my face; do you see the age of these scars?”  That was enough for the Vint to stop, but Nathaniel couldn’t bear the look of pity on the others face.  “My b-best friend was killed when Ostwick fell; he died in m-my arms…”  Nathaniel hoped the notion of grief would stop Dorian from prying.  And it did; he lifted his hand to the smaller man’s arm as if telling Nathaniel to stop.

“Aren’t you a little young to be dragged into all of this?”  He tried to change the subject for the sake of Nathaniel.  “You’re what; eighteen?  You can’t be much older.”

It worked to some degree as the Herald laughed in confusion.  “Do I really look like a teenager?” Dorian couldn’t react. “Ser Pavus, I f-feel obligated to correct you: I am twenty five!”

“Really? I do apologise, but you are such a small thing.”  He gave a warm smile that helped Nathaniel feel more at ease.

“I suppose I should accept the compliment.” He laughed.

“If nothing else, at least I feel better about your involvement.”  Dorian joined the laughter. “I didn’t mean to tread so far before.” The Tevinter apologised.

“It’s a-alright.” Nathaniel looked up to Dorian; he stood a good three inches taller than himself.  “It’s still r-raw i-in my mind.  I endured s-sixteen years of the Circle, and at our first chance of freedom, both Lirienne and Diyari were taken from me.  It wasn’t fair.  F-fucking Templars.”

“Not a fan then?” Dorian was trying to lighten the mood again.

“Not really, no.” Nathaniel composed himself. “And it would seem two of my brothers are apparently Knights of the Order.” His anger flared.

“Apparently?” Dorian questioned. “What does that mean?”

“I was isolated when powers m-manifested, and s-sent to the Circle when I was nine.  I don’t r-recall what my siblings look like, much less what they’ve been doing for the last two decades.”

The older mage noted how much of a different person Nathaniel was when speaking of Templars and his family.  “That’s a long time.” Dorian sighed. “You were so young to be sent away.”

“Actually, I was quite old.  Most children are taken as soon as their magic becomes apparent to their parents.”  Dorian was uncomfortable with the ease that Nathaniel took the conversation. “A-as I said, I was isolated, kept hidden really.  I m-manifested at four and my mother didn’t want to separate me from my twin, I’m sure no one knew she had t-twins until I left.” Nathaniel smiled. “It was my f-father who eventually convinced her to send me to Ostwick.”

“Hid you? Isolated?”  The Tevinter was getting visibly agitated.  “How could they treat a child like that?  Hide your existence, so no one knew you’d been born!” He was almost frothing now.

I am the first mage in many generations of a very religious family.  They didn’t know how to deal with me, or the consequences from the Chantry.” Nathaniel was oddly calm about his youth, it softened Dorians anger. “And to think, I keep adding to the list of disappointments.”

Dorian smiled, the kindred spirit in the Herald proving to the Altus his decision to contact the Inquisition was correct. “Did I hear you right; you’re a twin?”

“I am, I have a twin brother, Maxwell.” Nathaniel was glad for the subject change. “We _are_ identical and _he_ is thirteen minutes older.”

“Get asked that a lot?” The Tevinter smiled. “So how many siblings do you have?”

“I have four brothers and two sisters.” He actually needed a moment to think of the answer.

“Large family.” Dorian’s response was flat.

“I’m sure the Trevelyan family motto is actually ‘Breeding to fill the Chantry’.” Nathaniel laughed again. “Then at the end of it all, they got me.”

“I think our parents would get along.” Dorian laughed too.

The pair returned to camp then, ready to settle before their early start to Haven.


End file.
